


Awakening

by Barbedbeat



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbedbeat/pseuds/Barbedbeat
Summary: How Aloth got to know Iselmyr.A fic inspired by-and dedicated to- the wonderful people from the PoE fan Discord.





	Awakening

Aloth had never felt like this.

Sure, he’d felt fear before, and terror wasn’t unknown to him. But they’d always come from the outside world, often in the very tangible form of Father’s drunken fists.  
This time however- he pondered, twirling his spoon in the bowl of ginger porridge that sat under his nose- this time, it was different.  
This time, the discomfort wasn’t sparked by a looming threat, no.  
This time, it came from somewhere deep inside of him.  
It was a nagging feeling, like an icicle piercing his ribcage, and it was due to an all new sense of awareness. The awareness that, burrowed in the depths of his brain, there was something that had no rights to be there.

It had all started three days earlier, when, after being subjected to one of his father’s merciless assaults, his mounting fear, anger and frustration had become so crushing he simply couldn’t bear them anymore. And in that instant, he’d felt something snap.  
It had been like a violent shiver that had jolted out of his soul and down his spine, snatching his body and claiming his mind.  
In the darkness that ensued, he’d seen things. They’d come to him in blurs, contorted shades of memories that seemed to swirl like ink at the bottom of a lake.  
And they dripped with rage and violence, stray inklings of a time long gone.  
When he woke up with a start in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and aching all over, he immediately knew something was wrong.  
“Aloth?”  
Mother sat next to his bed, clutching a damp cloth. A candle cast its wobbly light on her complexion, highlighting the creases worry had woven around her eyes.  
“Aloth?”, she repeated. “Is… is that you?”  
Her words stumbled through his brain without making a speck of sense.  
Of course it was him, what kind of question was it?  
But, exhausted as he was, a simple nod was all he mustered to do in reply.  
“Ah, thank the Gods”, she said, relief wafting off her like steam. “For a moment I thought I’d lost you and…” She wrapped her arms around him, sending needles across his body and a swarm of questions through his mind.  
It wasn’t the first time he had been beaten senseless, but she had never shown such amounts of motherly care before- if any at all.  
And now there she was, hugging him as if he were about to slip through her fingers and vanish in a puff of smoke.  
“I’m good, mother. I’m good, really”, he croaked, gently pushing her away from his hurting bones.  
“I’m glad to hear you say so”, she replied, dipping the cloth in the water bowl at her feet. “Now let me get a look at that cut on your brow. I tried to clean it before, but you just... didn’t let me”.  
The conversation kept getting weirder and weirder.  
“I didn’t let her? What does it even mean?”, he thought, sucking his breath through his teeth as his mother dabbed at the fresh wound above his eye.  
“Is- ow!- is something the matter?” He asked, his apprehension growing greater with every passing second. “And where is Father?”  
“Oh, don’t you worry about him, little one”, she replied, “He’ll be fine. You just… She put a finger under his chin to give a better look at his bruises, “gave him quite a scare is all. His arm is a bit wonky, but I’m sure it will heal in no time”.  
“His - _ouch, mom_ \- his what? What does it mean? Wha-- what happened??”  
Mother blinked. “Oh. You… you don’t remember anything, do you?”  
Mother had never been easy to read, but this was simply too much.  
“What in Hel are ye goin’ on about?! And get that hand out o’ my face, ye bloody tosser of a woman!”  
Before he could do anything, Aloth felt his arm move without his permission, yanking Mother’s away with excessive force. When he’d regained control over himself, his stomach was filled with terror.  
“... mum?”  
Mother had recoiled, her fingers wringing every bit of moisture out of the bloody cloth.  
“Mum?” Aloth repeated, now fully aware of the alien presence gnawing at the back of his mind. “Mum, what’s happening? Mum?!”  
His voice had started to crack with rising horror, and he was about to burst into a panicked cry when he felt the warm touch of his mother’s hands onto his.  
“Child”, she’d said, eyes darkened by sadness, “you’ve been Awakened”.

 

Awakenings were... fickle things, she’d said. They occurred when something forced your soul to remember its past. And when that happened, the fragment of a previous life would surface and keep thriving in you.  
Awakenings, she’d continued, were also dangerous. You could never know who or what you were before being, well, you. And, given the cause and ferocity of Aloth’s Awakening, there were no doubts his was, too.  
He had to be careful. He had to keep a cool head, and do everything in his power not give in to the foul-mouthed, ill-tempered woman that dwelled in his soul.  
And one last thing. No one should ever know about it. Not even his closest friends, not even his father.  
No one.

It all had been a lot to endure for such a young mind, and he’d spent the following couple of days in the stupor of a feverish haze. There had been moments when he’d heard himself say things he couldn’t understand, and others in which only Mother’s potions could help replace the searing pain in his skull with warm oblivion.

But now that the fever was gone, Mother had been called back to her Haemneg and Father had decided to make himself scarce, he’d been left unattended, with no one but the stranger in his soul and a sharp sense of dread to keep him company.  
What a mess.  
What a blasted, blasted mess.  
He let go of he spoon, letting it fall into the bowl with a wet *slop*.  
In spite of his stomach’s loud dissent, he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything.  
But again, it was difficult to work an appetite when your own skin felt like an overcrowded prison.  
He shook his head and dug his fingers in his scalp.  
The worst part of the whole situation, he reflected, massaging his throbbing temples, was that he was alone in it.  
If only he could have talked to someone- anyone - about his troubles, perhaps he would’ve found some comf--

  
_Psst, hey. Hey, laddie._  
A voice rung through the silence like a Winter’s End bell, making his spine tingle with fright.  
His palms ran across the table’s surface frantically searching for a weapon only to find an old butter knife.  
He grabbed its battered handle and jolted on his feet, arm held above his head in a defensive stance.  
“Is… is someone there?” he mewled, scanning the kitchen as if expecting to see a thief bolt out of the cupboard.  
The answer came soon enough, prying a yelp out of his throat.  
_Dinnae bother, sonny. It’s jist me._  
It took awhile for the realization to sink in but when it did, it hit him so hard the knife slipped from his grasp.  
The voice… the voice had come from within his skull.  
It could mean only one thing.  
The Stranger was _inside_ his head.  
And she was talking to him.  
A bubble of panic began to swell in his chest, filling his lungs with ice.  
He had no idea what to do: he’d always been taught that talking to oneself was something fit for madmen and lunatics… And he wasn’t one of them, now, was he?  
But maybe… maybe, if he squeezed his eyes shut and pretended not to hear her, she’d eventually grow bored and go aw  
_Are ye bein' serious, now?!_  
\--ay. Fuck, that did not work.  
The Stranger let out a quick sigh.  
_So, laddie, are ye going tae talk to me? Or did a stelgaer eat yer tongue while we were kippin’?_  
Aloth was torn. He’d been told to be careful, keep a distance, hold his guard up at all times... but how could he avoid his own thoughts?  
Besides, judging from the constant prickling and prodding behind his eyes, it didn't’ seem like she- whoever she was- was bent on leaving him be anytime soon.  
That was it then. He had to talk back.  
The boy clenched his fists, gathering all the courage he could muster.  
“Wh- what do you want?”, he blurted.  
_Jist tae have a wee banter, lad. Nye more_.  
A drop of sweat rolled down his nose.  
She’d seemed reasonable enough, but Mother’s words still echoed in his ears.  
Stranger was dangerous. She had to be, or else she wouldn’t have awakened when and how she did. And look what she’d done to his father, beating him up and snapping his arm like it were a green twig. Not to mention her language: lady had a demon’s tongue, and she wasn’t afraid of using it.  
No: he couldn’t trust her. What if she wanted to harm him? Or even worse, what if she was planning to charm him, only to possess his defenseless mind and plunge his consciousness into an empty abyss of darkness for all eternity? The sole thought had him stumble against the wall, gasping for air.  
He simply couldn’t allow it.  
“No, no, go away! Go…”  
Aloth could feel the fear mount, sending his heart pounding in his throat and his instincts in a frenzy.  
He couldn’t stay there, he had to flee, hide, find refuge… and he had to do it now. His legs were about to kick off into a desperate run when he felt it. The buzzing, the shiver, and the scorching pain in his bones.  
Next thing he knew, he was calmly walking towards the table, shaking his head in disapproval.  
As if suspended in a dream, he observed himself place both hands on the wooden surface and sit down in front of his untouched breakfast. Little by little, he’d felt his pulse subside, his breathing relax and the burning terror in his chest dispel into quiet alarm.  
And then, once his panic had been quelled- and after she’d finished stretching and yawning with all the graceful gusto of a werebear, Aloth was himself once again.  
_So, boy: ye better? Has that dafty heid of yers simmered down a wee bit yet?_  
The young elf stared at the wall in front of him for several seconds, struggling to process what had just happened.  
He didn’t know what to think. He was... horrified.  
He’d just been stripped of his own agency for the best part of five minutes, his body hijacked by a somebody he didn't know nor trust, who had filled his mind with thoughts and urges he couldn’t recognize. And yet, now that he was back in his own skin...  
“Yes”, he murmured, looking at his hands as if seeing them for the first time, “I do feel a bit better, yes”.  
_Ye should hav seen yersel’, wean. Thought ye were goin’ tae pesh yer breeches._  
He couldn’t help but blush.  
“Well, Mother told me a lot of things, and I--”  
Stranger chuckled softly from her spot between his temples.  
“ _Fye, that harlot sure has done a grand job stuffing yer napper wit horseshite, eh_?”  
Aloth froze, lips still slightly parted.  
Those words had rolled out of his mouth without him even noticing, and they’d addressed his mother as a… a....  
“How dare you?!”  
_Oh, come on now. My ma’ was a harlot as well, ken? But it isnae like there’s anything wrong with it, lemme tell ye_.  
He bit his lip, ears glowing purple with a scalding mixture of anger and embarrassment.  
There was something deeply unsettling in being twelve and sharing a mind with a grown woman, he began to realize.  
And on that matter...  
“... who would you happen to be, anyway?”  
_Name’s Iselmyr. Nice to meet ye, laddie._  
“Iselmyr”, he repeated, the shadow of a smile appearing on his face. “What a funny name”.  
If souls could shrug, that would be exactly what his had done in that moment.  
_Always better than “Aloth”._  
The kid’s nostrils twitched with suppressed indignation, but he did his best to ignore her remark.  
“Anyhow”, he sighed, trying to steer the conversation on a more edifying terrain, “Earlier, you said you wanted to… talk. Or so I think.”  
He found himself nodding.  
_Aye, ye got that._  
“And what is it you wanted to talk about, exactly?”  
_Well, first thing first_ \- she started, _I wanted tae talk about that porridge of yers_.  
Aloth squinted in surprise.  
“The… porridge?”  
_Aye, that gloopy thingie that’s in the bowl right there._  
Aloth blinked stupidly at the food in front of him, suddenly conscious of its presence.  
“You’ll pardon me asking, but… what of it?”  
_Well, that maybe it’s time ye put some mealie under yer teeth. Jist sayin’._  
“But I really don’t--”  
Iselmyr’s groan felt like a claw scraping on the inside of his scalp.  
_Listen lad, listen now. Ye haven’t eaten a thing in days. What are ye goin’ tae do: starve us both deid? How much longer d’ye think that skinny hide of yers will last if ye don’t put some stuffing in it?_  
He cocked his head. All things considered, she did have a point. So, he grabbed the spoon, fished up a good bit of porridge and shoved it in his mouth.  
It was surprisingly sweet, soft, and pleasantly spicy.  
And, before he could even realize it, he’d started wolfin through the whole bowl.  
_That’s a braw lad!_ , she chimed, sending a comforting, pat-like buzz across his shoulder.  
_But there’s another thingie I want to tell ye, and that’s… well._  
“Mmh-mh?”, he stated amidst spoonfuls.  
_Well, ye know. This whole thing. The Away… the Awee…_  
“The Awakening,” he completed, a fresh sense of alert growing inside him.  
Now that the void in his belly had been filled and the pangs of hunger soothed, he’d started to feel much less miserable and a lot more cross at the entire situation.  
“What about it?”, he asked.  
Iselmyr seemed to weigh her words, if only for a second.  
_It's jist…, she began, It… it isnae a breeze, laddie._  
Aloth couldn’t help but scoff. “Oh, you don’t say”, he murmured, arms crossed tight in front of his chest, shoulders sinking into a sulking hump. “And you wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, hm?”  
Iselmyr paused for a second.  
_What d’ye mean?_  
He shrugged.  
“Oh, nothing. It’s not like you… you just… popped out of nowhere, wreaking havoc and--”, his jaw clenched as he struggled against the welling tears “destroying my fucking life”.  
A wave of alien ferocity surged into his core.  
_Oh, I see: ye think I did that on purpose, don’t ye?!_  
Before he could do anything about it, he found himself jumping on his feet and pacing around the kitchen, arms flailing wildly to accompany Iselmyr’s every sentence.  
_Ye think-- ye think I just got up one day and said to meself, “Oi me lass, why don’t we go an’ pester a wee wizard-boy named Aloth”, don’t ye?! Well, lemme tell ye, ye absolute coxfither:_ _yer off yer darn’d heid!_  
Her punch landed on the table with enough force to make the cutlery clink in protest.  
_Now, let me ask ye something,_ she reprised, waving his finger up in the air in violent admonishment, _How d'ye think it feels, eh? Being-- being deid fer… fer I dinnae ken how long, and wake up in a wean’s skin to a honkin’, guttered bastard who's tryin’ tae clean his soles on yer ribs?_  
She stopped, chest heaving with fury.  
_And if I hadn’t decided tae shove his hand up his arse, we’d both be good an’ scuppered by now, and ye k--_  
She faltered, control withdrawing from her as Aloth’s blood simmered with a different kind of spite- his very own.  
“It wasn’t...”, he panted, trying to steady himself in spite of the raging vertigo, “your decision. It was never your decision”, he leaned on the table as the walls spun recklessly in his peripheries. “Besides, there was no need for such... barbarism. I… I had it all under control.”  
Iselmyr’s irate laughter sent him collapsing forward, pain shooting through his flesh as her consciousness spread back into his body like fast growing vines.  
_Oh, ye sure did, aye. And what were ye planning tae do, eh? Hide intae the pantry, maybe? Or- ah, *kindly* ask yer auld man tae stop baisting ye like a bloody wardrum?_  
She chuckled again, bitterly this time.  
_Nay, laddie: I dinnae think so._  
Aloth clenched his fists so hard he heard his knuckles pop.  
“You may not like him, but he’s still my father, Gods damn you!”  
_Aye. And ye’ve been dreaming tae skelp his arse raw fer years._  
_At least, now ye git somebody tae blame fer it._  
She walked towards the window and took a long, pensive glance at the stretch of jungle that covered the horizon.  
_Ye can lie to yersel’ as much as ye like, young’un. But truth-- truth runs on a hound’s legs. And before day’s done, it always comes home tae bite yer baws._  
She stopped, a sudden grin appearing on her face.  
_...If ye had any, that is!_  
Aloth wriggled back into his skin just long enough to utter a clear, heartfelt “You bitch”.  
The woman let out an amused sigh before continuing, a spark of rage igniting her words.  
_Calmy doony, sonny: ye dinnae like me, that’s fair. And nye am I crazy about ye, ken?_  
_But now we’re stuck together, and yer skin is my skin. And I’ll be damned if I let yer fuckin’ ninnies--_  
Iselmyr stopped abruptly, eyed locked on the window glass, where Aloth’s reflection stood out against the clear morning sky.  
He was a kid. Just a damn kid.  
And a scrawny one at that.  
How could you possibly blame him for… for anything, really?  
She bit her lip, suddenly unsure as to what say.  
And then,

 _Jist… jist try tae wake up a wee bit, fer fuck’ sake_ , she concluded, her form retreating into his soul, her essence dispelling like a plum of smoke in the wind.

 

The orange rays of dusk had started to stretch above the horizon when Aloth finally came by.  
The first thing he noticed as he fluttered his eyelids open, was the blissful silence that reigned in his head.  
The second, that he’d been tucked under his blankets, in his own bed, in his own room.  
And the last, that he had no idea how he’d managed to get there.  
All he remembered was that, after Iselmyr had retreated and he’d been sucked back in his own skin, he’d felt utterly devastated.  
The session of psychic tug of war with his awakened soul had been so violent it had drained him of all his energies, catapulting him in the maws of a sickness that had turned his limbs into shivering noodles and the world into a swirling, roiling mass.  
And it hadn’t taken long for his back to hit the ground, plunging him into a still sea of darkness.  
But, unless Iselmyr- what a funny name- had the power to magically teleport people, the details of his journey from the kitchen to the room remained shrouded in mystery.  
Unless...

The distant creaking of a door sent a droplet of sweat trickling down his spine.Father had gotten home.  
He laid immobile, eyes wide, intently listening for any cues that could warn him on his parent’s whereabouts.  
And then he heard them, clear as day: his footsteps thudding on the floor.  
But they weren’t the usual, uneven stomps that sent the floorboards moaning under his drunken gait, no. This time they were soft and considerate- as if he were trying to make as little noise as possible- and most definitely sober.  
And even so, Aloth could not help but feel his guts tie into a knot upon hearing the noise getting louder and louder as it grew closer to his position.  
Once it was clear Father was only a couple of seconds away from his door, Aloth’s heart started racing.  
Holding his breath, he rolled to the side and burrowed his head in the pillow, falling into a defensive stillness.  
The door slowly creaked open, noisily rolling on its hinges.  
Aloth listened silently as Father tiptoed towards the bed, eyes squeezed shut, every sense high on alert.  
It took him all of his self-control not to flinch when his blanket shifted away from his face, making way for a callous hand to gently brush against his forehead.  
“Better”, Father mumbled as he tapped his son on the shoulder, snapping him out of his fake sleep. The man’s right arm was still cast in a stilt and, Aloth realized, his eyes were clear and white, totally devoid their customary alcoholic redness for the first time in a long time.  
“Brought you something to eat”, he uttered, gesturing towards the bowl of soup that sat on the writing desk, right besides Aloth’s grimoire.  
The boy bit his lip, briefly stunned by his father’s unexpected act of kindness.  
“Thanks, pa”, he finally whispered.  
Father did not do as much as reply before turning around, and march out of the room in martial struts.  
The boy sat on the bed for a while, observing the door close behind him with unspeakable relief.  
And then, once he’d made sure Father’s footsteps could be heard no more, he sprinted out of the blankets and straight to his dinner.  
He had never liked pea soup much, but that one- he thought between hearty mouthfuls- that one was the single, most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.  
This was in no small part due to the fact his hunger would have easily matched that of Galawayn’s very Hound, of course… and yet, there was something else.  
Father had never been prone to dispensing affection- especially not after Mother had joined in Haemneg with a folk Thayn- and a similar caring gesture, albeit as simple and banal as pouring him a plate of mushy vegetables, was more than Aloth could ever ask for.  
And it had made his heart jolt with joy.  
Being able to bask in such a relaxed feeling was a luxury he could rarely afford, and he was determined to appreciate its every second.  
Especially since, he pondered, a sudden bitter note hitting the back of his throat, such cherished moments of respite never seemed to last for long.  
And this, with all likelihood, would have proved to be no exception.

The only thing that made the present inkling of normalcy stand out from the rest was the life-changing, crushing cost at which it had come: his Awakening.

Aloth felt a sigh escape from his chest.  
“Talk about a silver lining”, he murmured as he slowly chewed through the last few specks of food, savouring every bit.

At least, though, there was one thing.  
Whatever the future might have brought in his path- he thought, a fleeting buzz flickering softly behind his his eyes- he’d never be alone again.


End file.
